


The Cursed Teenage Witch

by vivilove



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Curses, Dirty Dancing, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Halloween, Jon and Sansa Are Not Related, Light Angst, Minor Blood Drinking, Mutual Pining, NOT a Sabrina AU, Sexual Content, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-10-21 11:48:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20693024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: Being a teenage witch sounds cool but Sansa Stark would tell you it's got some drawbacks in her case.  She fears she'll never know requited romantic love for one thing.After the defensive spell she cast against Joffrey went awry, the Sorceress Cersei cursed her after all.  “If my son’s heart was not good enough for you, none shall be.  From this day until your last day, Sansa Stark, your love will be like poison.  Any man who you should love, who falls in love with you in return, shall perish.”Despite her dear granny's attempts to lessen Cersei's evil spell, she just can't take that kind of risk.  Not even for Jon Snow, right?





	1. The Curse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amymel86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/gifts), [chocolateghost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolateghost/gifts), [patritxi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/patritxi/gifts).

> Thank you, Amy, for reading the start of this and the beautiful poster :) Also, gifted to Brad and Patritxi, two lovers of Halloween!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real quick:
> 
> I expect this to be around 7 chapters and done before Halloween. 
> 
> And all of the witchy stuff is plucked straight from Harry Potter Wiki or my imagination :)

The Halloween party at Jeyne Poole’s house had been something fifteen-year-old Sansa Stark had looked forward to all month but it had turned out to be the absolute worst.

Joffrey had been dressed as a prince to her princess and she’d thought they’d surely win the prize for best couple costume. But instead, Joffrey had decided to show her what a toad he really was.

_Not a toad perhaps. A toad’s alright as amphibians go. Maybe a caecilian. His lips remind me of them anyway. He’s certainly no prince._

“Hush, lovey, and don’t weep any more tears over that jackass.” Despite her hurt feelings, Sansa giggled at her Granny Lyarra’s words. “But did you say his name was Joffrey Baratheon?”

“Yes, Granny.”

“Cersei Lannister’s boy?”

“Yes, that’s him.”

“_Hmmm_.”

Her grandmother scowled before grabbing Sansa’s hairbrush off the dresser and pulling out her own little bag of personal care items she’d brought along for her visit. She set aside her medication bottles and sleep mask and started fiddling with what appeared to be a powder compact, some tubes of mascara, Sansa’s brush and a pair of tweezers (which was rather odd since Granny Lyarra didn’t wear makeup…or pluck any of her chin or nose hairs for that matter.)

Just as she was edging closer to try and figure out what the old dear was up to, Granny turned and dusted Sansa’s nose with a great big powder puff.

“What was…_ah…ah…AH-CHOO!_...that for?”

“Dandelion root makes me sneezy, too,” she chuckled. “Still better than hexed.”

Sansa stared at her sister and shrugged, utterly perplexed. Arya shrugged right back from where she was already under the covers, nestled down for sleep after her scary movie marathon and candy bar smorgasbord.

“Don’t fret, lovey. Cersei is powerful, there’s no denying it, but we’re not powerless.”

“I don’t under-“

“As for that Joffrey…there’s lots of boys out there and one of them is bound to be worthy of you. Boys in general are alright and they’ve got their uses but there’s more to you than your pretty face and if he can’t appreciate that, there’s no value in him, I say.”

She smiled, finding comfort in her grandmother’s words despite her twitchy nose.

“I told you Joffrey was a loser.”

“Shut up, Arya.”

“Now, no bickering, girls. You’re sisters and that’s 99% better than most things you’ll find in this life. Two sides of the same coin, you are. Would you like a story before bed?”

They were far too old for bedtime stories but in Granny’s case, they always made an exception. Her bedtime stories were strange but always the most interesting. They would spring to life inside Sansa’s mind as if a shadow projector was racing across the bedroom wall whenever Granny began to spin her yarns.

She nodded and climbed under the covers next to Arya. They were sharing Arya’s bed while their grandmother took Sansa’s. She’d already decided to heed her advice when it came to Joffrey and was secretly conceding that Arya was right about him.

“Actually, what I’m going to tell you tonight isn’t a story or a tale. Oh, no. This is a family secret that you’re not to go sharing willy-nilly with your little friends, understood?”

Sansa glanced at Arya whose eyes were as wide as her own likely were. What deep, dark and fantastic secret might they learn?

They both nodded solemnly, eager to hear.

“Sansa, you’ll be sixteen soon so it’s especially fitting for you to learn this though there’s no simple way to tell you. There’s magic in a Stark girl’s blood, you see.”

“Magic?” Sansa gasped.

“Yes, magic. Your father, the boys and your dear mother doesn’t have it but I do and you girls will as well.”

“What kind of magic will we have, Granny?”

“What kind of magic do you think, my wildflower? Divination, healing craft, spells and enchantments…and even curses upon occasion.”

“You mean…like a witch?” Sansa scoffed.

“Could I be a wizard?” Arya asked.

“Witch or wizard, you can call yourself by whatever title you prefer but it’s in your blood and once you turn sixteen, it’ll start to come out of you.”

Sansa shivered, not entirely sure she liked the notion of some strange power being unleased on her sixteenth birthday.

Arya thought differently. “If I can see the future, I’ll know what’s on the test before I take it! I’ll never have to study again! And I’ll turn Lommy into a toad if he ever talks mean to me again. Sansa, you should give Joffrey a tail and a nose the length of a mop handle and…”

“Now, hold on, child. It’s not so simple as that. Great power, great responsibility and all that. You must use your magic wisely and well. And it’ll take years for you to get good at it.”

Her grandmother had been right about that.

And sadly for Sansa, right after her sixteenth birthday, Joffrey had come around one day when Sansa had been home alone, his lust for the girl who no longer answered his calls surging through a heart full of hate and evil intent. He possessed no powers like his mother but he imagined himself the wounded party and thought himself mighty and strong.  
He had not reckoned on Sansa possessing any magic and, in her desperation to escape him, she’d attempted to cast a spell to protect herself.

It had been a misfire as spells go though. She was only a novice after all.

Joffrey Baratheon had missed the next two weeks of school and been forced to hide out in his bedroom until his mother could undo the spell that had transformed him into a gigantic worm (or caecilian perhaps)…with the ears of a jackass.

What might’ve been laughed off as youthful hijinks by some in the magical community was bitterly resented by the sorceress Cersei and she had taken the very first opportunity to curse poor Sansa.

_ “If my son’s heart was not good enough for you, none shall be. From this day until your last day, Sansa Stark, your love will be like poison,”_ she’d declared. _“Any man who you should love, who falls in love with you in return, shall perish.”_

Sansa had wept to hear those words and hurried to her grandmother’s house to tell her tale of woe. Lyarra had clasped her granddaughter’s hands and her heart had hurt for such a sorrowful thing to have happened.

But her grandmother was not completely powerless against Cersei’s dark magic and she’d cast a spell of her own that day to try and soften the vile curse to the best of her ability.

_“Somewhere, there’s a man worthy of you, lovey, and loving you will do him no harm,”_ she’d vowed.

Sansa had wanted to believe her grandmother with all her heart but she was young and what did she know of romantic love? She’d fancied herself in love with Joffrey, hadn’t she?

_Better to live my life without romance than to bring my curse down upon some poor innocent man._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting the second chapter along with the first to introduce Jon and give some Jonsa :)


	2. The Boy Who Pined

The Annual Spook-tacular Halloween Bash at the Tyrell Family’s McMansion was not an event Jon Snow would normally plan on attending. Granted, he wouldn’t normally be invited either.

But given his druthers, he would’ve preferred hanging out at the apartment, watching scary movies and having a few ales with Robb. Or maybe they could’ve checked out a haunted house or two if Robb had been game.

He took night courses, worked 3rd shift and slept most of the day. This was a rare free night for him. And now, it appeared he would be cursed with spending it socializing with undergrad strangers. He shuddered at the thought.

However, Robb _had_ been invited and said it’d be fun and Jon, being a devoted friend as well as being lumped into the invite as Robb’s roommate, had agreed to go along to Loras and Margaery Tyrells’ yearly costume party. He suspected it would be remarkably similar to most college parties, involving copious amounts of alcohol, pizza and the promise of a potential hook up with the only difference being that guests were sporting polyester superhero get-ups or face paint instead of just regular clothes.

_But hey, free booze._

“You didn’t even dress up!” Robb complained as he came out of the bathroom from his adventures in face paint at last.

“Yeah, I did.”

Robb Zombie, who looked nothing like the singer but very much like an extra off of ‘The Walking Dead’ (if it were produced by your local high school’s drama department), looked him up and down. “As what?"

"A vampire, see?” He pulled out the dollar store set of plastic fangs he’d grabbed when he’d fetched them dinner earlier. In Jon’s experience, pizza wasn’t always a lock at these things because it usually got consumed well before all the alcohol was gone. _Ramen for everyone!_

“But your clothes are just…ordinary.”

He glanced down at his dark grey henley, black jeans and boots. “We like blending in.”

Robb rolled his eyes but said no more about his extremely quick and on the fly costume. “Sansa should be here soon and then we’ll go.”

“Sansa?!” That came out as more of a yelp than he meant for it to. “Wha-wha-wha-why is your sister going?”

“She’s friend’s with Margaery. It’s how we got invited.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course.”_ Idiot! Why didn’t I think of that?!_

He’d known Robb’s younger siblings since they were all kids. In some ways, he felt like another big brother to them. But recently, he had to admit he’d had some less than brotherly feelings towards Sansa. And if Robb knew that, he’d probably kill him if he could.

It had started a few months ago when their landlord had declared their kitchen and bathroom would be getting remodeled.

_“Shouldn’t be a problem for anyone who keeps regular hours,_” Crabby Mr. Thorne had said with emphasis as he’d leered at Jon. He’d seemed to dislike him from the start for no reason whatsoever but particularly took exception to Jon’s irregular hours. _Which why should he care if I work all night and sleep all day? It’s not like I bother him. Who’d want to?_

For three long days, as soon as Jon’s head had hit the pillow after he’d got home and had his late night snack (or breakfast for most people), Mr. Thorne would be letting in a troop of workers to hammer and saw and bang and clang which meant he would get no sleep at all.

Mr. and Mrs. Stark had took pity on him when Robb had shared Jon’s difficulties and invited him to stay at their home until the work was done. Staying in the furnished spare room above their garage, he’d been out of the way enough for the family not to be forced to walk on eggshells and also blissfully able to rest.

The others were all gone during the day for various activities and kept those regular hours that Mr. Thorne favored but Sansa had been working nights serving tables and come closer to sharing his nocturnal schedule.

He’d be sitting at the kitchen table for the extra space to study on the nights he wasn’t working with everyone else asleep when she’d come in the backdoor, untying her little apron, kicking off her shoes and taking her hair down before joining him with a bowl of soup or a grilled cheese sandwich. Her company had been very welcome. It got lonely keeping odd hours.

They’d talk and eat and laugh together some nights and others they’d be sitting side by side in companionable silence while she’d draw colorful, swirly doodles into her sketchpad, saying it calmed her spirits, and he’d study.

But over the course of those six weeks, Jon had become aware of a shift in the status quo. Like magic, it had felt as if there was something in the air between himself and Sansa that had never been there when they were kids.

And one night, he’d declared himself burnt out with studying and they’d decided to adjourn to the sofa in the living room to watch a movie together.

Unfortunately, the film hadn’t held a tenth of his attention like Sansa had that night.

Wearing her midnight blue sleep shorts covered in black cats and a paler blue, kitten-soft t-shirt, he should’ve been reminding himself that she was Robb’s little sister. He’d not quite managed it as his eyes had taken in those long, long legs or noted how the t-shirt was a bit on the tight side and his wicked mind started whispering dirty thoughts that part of his anatomy was all too eager to listen to.

She’d been cold and they’d moved closer as the images on screen flickered by unnoticed. It had seemed harmless enough at first. She was supposed to be like a little sister to him, wasn’t she?

Except it hadn’t felt a bit sibling-like when she’d yawned and put her head on his shoulder and he’d wrapped an arm around her. Her soft sigh of contentment and the silky feel of her hair when his fingertips grazed it had stirred something deep within his chest, something tender and protective but maybe something a little intoxicating, or maybe something…a bit more.

It hadn’t felt sibling-like when they’d woke up hours later either, their bodies tangled together with her half on top of him and her lips pressed against his neck while his semi was poking her in the ribs.

Startled, he’d pulled away enough before she was fully awake to realize that part but they’d not got up right away. With heavy lidded eyes and still half in a dreamlike state, he’d not been able to resist stroking her satiny cheek with his forefinger and she’d not restrained herself from gazing right back at him and twining her fingers through his hair.

Her scent had filled his nostrils, the sweet honeysuckle of her skin and the citrusy nip of her shampoo. Her hair had been falling all around them as if it were a curtain, guarding them from all the rest of the world. He’d been aware of very little besides her soft smile, the powerful thumping of their hearts and how pink and delectable her lips had looked.

_“Sansa, I…” _He wished he'd worked up the nerve to finish that sentence before she spoke. _I want to kiss you._

_“Goodness, it’s nearly dawn!”_ she’d gasped before he’d said it. _“We should head to bed.”_

His arms had tightened around her in protest, not wanting to let her go, for only a second before he’d stopped himself. She’d wanted up and he’d never hold her down.

_“Yeah, of course,”_ he’d said as casually as he could manage with his semi that had been edging towards a full-fledged hard on.

But before she’d left, she’d leaned back down and kissed him lightly on the cheek. _“Sleep well today, Jon.”_

He’d sat there for ten minutes, willing his hard on away while gingerly touching his cheek like a besotted fool before heading out back, seriously doubting he’d get a wink of sleep anytime soon.

Which as it so happened, he hadn’t…

He’d been making his way up the wooden stairs leading up to the room above the Starks’ garage when, without warning, the entire structure had collapsed in an enormous heap of splintered wood, metal supports and nails. The previously perfectly sound structure had practically imploded in under him. Mr. Stark had called it the strangest freak accident he’d ever seen and told him he was lucky not only to escape without injury but to even be alive.

_Not as lucky as I’d’ve liked to’ve been,_ he’d thought morosely that afternoon as he’d laid in Robb’s old bedroom still haunted by the remnants of her bewitching scent and those tempting lips he’d never kissed.

But that had been back in June and he’d returned to the apartment a couple of days later with the remodeling work done at last.

And tonight, was Halloween and Sansa was coming over to go to a party with them. No big deal, right?

That stirring in his chest from summer had mostly faded to ghostly echo, hadn't it? 

Well, not entirely.

As in, not at all.

There was still some big brotherly feeling for Sansa inside of him though. Or were they more protective-bordering-on-jealous-lover type feelings?

“I don’t know Robb,” he said, picking up the thread of their discussion. “There’ll probably be some real losers there tonight hitting on girls plus lots of alcohol. I don’t think I could enjoy myself knowing Sansa might be subjected to some sot who can’t understand the word no. She could just hang out here with us.” He hoped that didn’t sound too suspicious. “I could find us something to watch.” _Something a little spooky. Sansa doesn’t handle spooky so well. She’d want to cuddle._

“That’s exactly why she’s riding with us and coming home with us. I mean, I know she’s not a kid exactly but she’s my sister and after Joffrey…”

Robb trailed off darkly and Jon felt something like an angry beast unfurling its wings in his guts. Joffrey Baratheon had been trouble with a capital T from Day 1 and Jon sincerely wished he’d never crossed any of the Starks’ paths. Same went for his horrid mother.

“I told her she could have my bed even if she decided to just spend the night with us.”

“Oh…okay, great.”

The beast within folded its wings and butterflies took up residence in his stomach instead.

Sansa might be sleeping in the next room? Might wake up tomorrow morning wearing nothing but one of Robb’s t-shirts _(or she’s welcome to one of mine!)_ and her panties and be sitting across from him while he drank his morning decaf? Gods, he was in trouble.

But after that morning when she’d woke up in his arms, she’d made it fairly clear she wasn’t interested in him that way. In fact, she usually seemed like she was eager to be away from him whenever he got near her. He hated to think he’d caused her any disagreeable feelings or discomfort that morning so he'd taken her lead when it came to keeping his distance.

It wasn’t that she was unkind or anything. She was often sending him little tokens of friendship even via Robb. He had dozens of her colorful, swirly doodles tacked to his bulletin board (he was ridiculously attached to every single one) but that was not all. Bath oils and scented candles (he hoped she wasn’t telling him he stunk-he did bathe regularly), a deck of cards she’d found at some curio shop (he hated to point out he didn’t know the rules to whatever game they were for) and even a charm bracelet with an amethyst set in the center (ordinarily not his thing but when Sansa had said the amethyst reminded her of the flecks of violet in his grey eyes, you can bet he’d wore the dogshit out of that bracelet…until it broke).

So, yeah…he could easily be a goner for Sansa Stark if given half a chance. She just didn’t seem to want to get too close to him. _And why would she? If she knew..._

Robb had said it was Joffrey’s fault, that he’d made her skittish around men. Jon would sincerely love to knock that little douchebag’s lights out at the very least but he’d not seen the guy in ages. Maybe he transferred schools after what happened.

But back to Sansa, as far as Jon knew, she did very little dating. Loras Tyrell was the last guy Jon had heard of her even seeing and Robb had mentioned in passing it was more of a friend thing.

Maybe she wanted to focus on school for now and would look for romance later on. She was only eighteen.

Or maybe she really did think he should bathe more often.

Whatever the case, as much as he’d like to ask her out, he’d hate to make her uncomfortable or stir trouble with his best friend.

And all things considered, it might be for the best if he simply pined for Sansa Stark at a distance.

* * *

Robb was mixing pre-party drinks when the doorbell rang. “Could you get it?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jon answered before rolling off the couch and gliding to the door, his stupid heart already starting that little staccato step it did whenever Sansa was near him anymore…not that it was very often.

He opened the door and felt his breath leave his body in a great whoosh. There on his doorstep stood Sansa in the most sinfully delightful witch’s costume he’d ever beheld. Black boots, fishnet stockings which ended high on her thighs but before the hem of her sapphire blue and black minidress.

Her lips were painted the shade of mulberries, her blue eyes were sparkling and all that bright auburn hair of hers was flowing down around her shoulders, nicely framing the cleavage created by the costume’s cinched bodice. _Gods, have mercy._

She even had a teeny-tiny purse shaped like a cauldron and an adorable little pointy hat dusted with stardust perched on top of her head.

His eyes might’ve swept up and down a time or two (oh, so swiftly) before he licked his lips and found his tongue.

“You look, um…nice. I like the, uh…hat.”

_Nice?! The hat?! Is that the best you can do?!_

_What was I supposed to say? ‘You look like a daydream and I would die a happy man if you’d permit me to eat you out right here, right now?’_

Her eyes boggled at his ham-fisted compliments and she murmured a hurried ‘thanks’ before slipping past him, leaving her scent trailing behind her to torment him.

He put his hand over his heart and closed his eyes. Gods, it would be another long night of pining.


	3. Cocktail Hour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter to give some of Sansa's POV but I promise there'll be some Jonsa fireworks in the next one :)

She’d tried, alright? Gods, knew she had tried so hard and over all she’d been successful at avoiding certain disaster and heartache, she thought.

_And what would you call the staircase to the garage collapsing?_

_You would remind me of that of course._

Alright…when she’d been thirteen, she’d been smitten with sixteen-year-old Jon Snow. Was that so hard to believe? All those hormones surging through her young body and her older brother’s best friend, who had always been kind to her, had paid her a compliment.

_“You look radiant in blue, Sansa,”_ he’d said good-naturedly when Robb had twisted his arm into attending her dance recital with the family (to keep him company no doubt).

She’d felt like twirling anew in her sky blue leotard and flowing tulle skirt backstage of the little theater when Jon Snow with his inky dark curls and smoky dark grey eyes had said that. Robb had scoffed and punched his shoulder which had made Jon laugh but she hadn’t cared. He’d called her radiant. She’d been thirteen, alright?

That had faded as crushes often do and Jon was just like part of the family in a sense until he and Robb moved off for college and she saw less and less of him.

But then in June, when she’d told herself that she was perfectly content with her lot in life, Jon Snow had come galloping back into her life like a spectral knight of lost love to taunt her with all the things she could never have.

He didn’t mean to, of course. He had no idea about the curse. No one in the family knew except Arya and her granny. She’d been sure that Jon was unaware of her feelings for him, the ones she would tamp down mercilessly any time they’d flare up with all the explosive potential of adder’s fork combined with nether wart.

Except those nights they’d spent together at the kitchen table and then that one night they’d wound up on the sofa together…

She'd woke at one point and realized they must've fallen asleep together. Her cheeks had flushed over how intimately he'd been holding her and yet she had not minded one bit. She'd gently brushed back the curls from his brow and stared at his full lips for a time. She'd pictured what it might be like to kiss him. She hadn't though. 

And it's not like she could've helped noticing how sculpted his physique was since she was lying half on top of him, right? It's not as if she'd really thought too much about that hard body after that night anyway. _ Riiiight._

She'd told herself she'd wake him and they could go to bed. But his arms had been so warm and she'd been surrounded by the subtle but pleasing aroma of sandalwood and the cranberry juice he liked drinking while he studied or just anytime. It had made her think that for just a little while, she could pretend that this man she cared about, this man she had fallen in love with, could really be hers. So, she'd ignored the hot tears welling in her eyes and let his shirt catch the few that escaped as she buried herself deeper in his arms and deeper in her wishes before going back to sleep. 

That morning though, when they'd both woke up and been blinking and sleepily grinning at one another with his dark eyes flickering between her eyes and her lips, that was when Sansa had started to fear that even if he wasn’t aware of her feelings for him, he was starting to develop feelings of his own for her.

And what had happened?

Boom, boom, crash and just thank the gods he’d escaped unscathed!

She simply couldn’t live with herself if Jon fell in love with her and then died.

So, she’d avoided him.

They say absence can make the heart grow fonder but it can just as easily squash nascent romantic feelings like a bug. She would know. Anytime, she’d started to ‘feel’ something towards any boy in particular after that fateful day she’d been cursed, Sansa Stark had made sure to go out of her way to avoid said boy.

However, in Jon’s case, she couldn’t just avoid him completely. He was Robb’s best friend and they lived together. Romantic feelings aside, she cared about him and wanted to be extra vigilant ensuring that Cersei’s foul curse would never harm him. And deep down, she’d not wanted to avoid him altogether…not one bit.

So, she’d started making her little offerings with her protective charms and tokens, hoping against hope that if Jon should feel anything towards her beyond friendship that it might keep him safe. And, she needed to harden her heart and stop pining for him.

_Yeah, good luck with that._

* * *

_“You look, um…nice. I like the, uh…hat.”_

Could one describe Jon Snow as smooth?

That would be a no.

Did her heart start hammering against her ribcage at his stammered compliment anyway?

It sure did.

Gods, why did he have to greet her at the door, leaving her all breathless like that right off the bat tonight? How dare he get her befuddled before the evening truly began?

_Well, he does live here, you know._

She couldn’t even accept his compliment with good grace before she was scurrying away to find Robb. Probably for the best. Robb would be the ideal barrier. Her big brother would have Honorable Jon Snow thinking about her being his little sister and would also keep her from making a fool of herself. She hoped so anyway.

“Hey, Sansa. You want a cock-“ Robb’s offer of a drink (cut off at an interested point, mind you) ended abruptly as he got a look at her.

_Do I want a cock? Well, there’s one I wouldn’t mind checking out if…_

_ARRR! Hocus pocus and FOCUS!_

“What the fuck are you wearing?! You can’t go out like that!”

“Yes, I can, Dad!”

Alright, so the costume was on the risqué side for her (Margaery had helped her pick it out and the model in the picture on the package was obviously shorter than her) but she was eighteen and it was Halloween. Maybe she’d never have love but couldn’t she look hot this one night?

“Jon, tell her she can’t go out like that!”

She turned towards Jon, ready for battle on two fronts if necessary as she expected him to take Robb’s side. He didn’t. “She’s an adult, Robb, and it’s a party. Leave her be.”

His words were very validating to her independent young womanhood.

The way he was looking at her however definitely left her feeling validated in another manner. She’d wanted to feel sexy tonight and the way he’d scanned her from head to toe (for the fifth time already tonight by her reckoning) said Jon Snow was not looking at her like Robb’s little sister right now. Was there a strange beast growling or howling somewhere outside or was she imagining that?

_Oh no, oh no, oh no…would the Love Potion Antidote work even if no one’s given him a love potion? It might be worth a shot but I don’t have any Gurdyroot handy, blast it!_

_He’s looking at you. He can look. Looking isn’t loving. Relax._

“Fine, Mr. I-don’t-think-I-could-enjoy-myself-knowing-Sansa-might-be-subjected-to-some…”

“Yeah, yeah! I know what I said!” Jon growled.

She was curious what that was about. She was also turned on by the ferocity of Jon’s expression and that rumbling growl.

_Me? A cursed and horny teenage witch? It’s more likely than you think._

“How about that drink, Robb?” she asked to defuse the tension and hopefully turn the talk away from her little witchy costume (and her thoughts away from the idea of Jon Snow using that voice in far different circumstances.)

“Here, try a Squid Bite,” her brother grumbled, shoving a drink in her hand. “Theon gave me the recipe.”

“What’s in it?”

“Kraken, warm apple juice, cinnamon and apple slices.”

“It’s practically health food compared to the ramen we had for dinner,” Jon smirked as he took one of his own.

She hummed in agreement as the crisp tartness of the apple juice and the blend of vanilla and spices in the rum coated her tongue. She smacked her lips and sat her glass back down, smiling at Jon as the warmth of liquor reached her tummy. _Ooh, that was pleasant. And he's very pleasant to look at. And I'd better not drink too much..._

Three years had passed since that disappointing party at Jeyne Poole’s house where Joffrey had first shown his true colors. Three years since her Granny Lyarra had told her what she was. And nearly three years since that fateful day Joffrey had attacked her and she’d later been cursed by Cersei.

It’d been four months since she’d caught herself falling in love with Jon Snow and he was still breathing. What harm was there in spending the evening with him? What could go wrong? She was still young, still a teenager in truth. She was a witch and this was Halloween. Tonight should be hers to enjoy, shouldn’t it?

_But to be safe…_

“Here, Robb. Let me mix up my own little potent potion for you both before it’s time to go.”

"My little sister making me a cocktail, huh?"

"That's right. Do you have any lemon marmalade?"

"What in seven hells kind of drink are you making, Sans?"

"It's not for that. It's for breakfast if I stay. It's the only way I'll eat toast."

“You say that as if you expect us to have bread for toasting on hand. Bread that’s not more like an experiment in the varieties of mold, that is.”

She pouted and Robb, dear heart that he was, left to fetch lemon marmalade and bread suitable for toasting from the trendy corner market the boys rarely shopped at. 

_One out of the way..._

"Jon? Would you mind playing us some music?"

"Sure, Sansa," he said, pulling out his phone.

"But something appropriate for Halloween, please? Also, can it be something a little spooky but not too spooky?”

He scoffed playfully. “I don’t think I have anything that fills the bill handy on my playlist.”

“Please, Jon? It's Halloween,” she said, taking the risk of batting her eyelashes to get him out of the way for a minute or two.

He grinned (one of those irresistible Jon Snow grins that could render a girl’s panties a mess in no time-_oh help_) and started messing with his phone, hunting for her ‘spooky but not too spooky’ Halloween music.

And while the guys were busy with their assignments, she unclasped her little cauldron purse to add some special ingredients to the drink she was mixing especially for Jon.

“What is it?” he asked as she handed him a tumbler. He was smiling at her as he took the drink. _So sweet, so trusting. You are horrible, Sansa Stark._

“Oh, rum and ginger ale with some, uh…other things.”

_Like a little shrivel fig, snowdrop and coconut elixir…_

“Bottoms up."

She raised her glass in response and took another sip of her Squid Bite and waited.

“Bleh!” he shouted before he could stop himself. “I’m sorry, Sansa but it tastes like Castor oil or something!”

_ Yeah, some of that, too._


	4. Bump, Grind, Crash

Three hours later, the Tyrells’ Halloween party was in full swing and Sansa was decidedly giggly, an intoxicating mix of adorable and sexy if you asked Jon.

“How goes it, Vlad?”

“Ha. Ha.”

She’d been amused at his dollar store vampire teeth and it had only grown funnier to her as the evening went along.

“Wait a second.” Her eyes scrunched up and she looked him up and down. “You take night classes and sleep all day. You’re amazingly fond of dressing in black. Are you a closet vampire, Jon Snow?”

“Oh, that’s just ridiculous! There’s no such thing as vampires or anything like them, Sansa!”

_Wow, that was a very vehement denial there. That did not remotely sound like a man trying to hide something at all._

_She can’t know, okay? She’d…I don’t know what she’d say if she knew but it’s bound to be nothing good._

She looked puzzled by his overboard response initially but then shrugged as if she figured the party noise had caused him to shout. He was glad because they were currently rather cozy on one of the loveseats in the ginormous entertainment room full of big screens with a pool table nearby.

There was pop music blaring from the next room where the main party was happening. It was a little too packed for his taste with sweaty young bodies pumped full of liquor and hormones grinding to the beat. Okay, none of this was typically his scene but he didn’t care as long as she was sitting so close.

“Isn’t this the most marvelous Halloween party ever?” she asked as she sipped another of Margaery’s Black Magic Margaritas.

Jon raised his eyebrows incredulously. “How many of those have you had, Sansa?”

“Just two.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Not drunk. I had some Wideye Po-…I mean, I’m fine. I may be a little tipsy...” That statement was followed by an adorable hiccup. “But you’re the one who’s edging towards drunk.”

He started chuckling. She had him there. A beer with his ramen, one of Robb’s Squid Bites, whatever that gods-awful concoction was that Sansa had made them, followed up with a shot of tequila added to his usual nightly smoothie and…well, he’d sort of lost count once the party had started.

“Hey, Sansa. Nice costume,” a man’s voice said from above them.

Jon turned to see who their interloper was. Utter loathing came over him when he realized it was Harrold Hardyng. He was charming and good looking which helped him earn his well-deserved reputation as a womanizer. He was currently staring at Sansa like she was a particularly tasty Halloween treat left out just for him.

“Hello, Harry.”

Two words but Jon could practically hear the thoughts buzzing through her head. Mostly, they were screaming ‘LEAVE ME ALONE!’

“Hey, Snow.”

“Harry.” _That was a growl. Watch it._

“So, are you a good witch or a bad witch, Sansa? Please, say bad.” He was waggling his eyebrows like that was the most droll thing ever.

She gave a feeble laugh and seemed to be bracing herself for the inevitable invite to dance.

_Oh no, sir. She’s no treat for you. You deserve a pillowcase full of rocks if anyone ever did._

“So, Sansa…” Hardyng said, leaning forward. “Would you care to…”

“Sorry, Hardyng. We were just going to dance.” He didn’t get up though. He just stared the man down. “Better luck elsewhere.”

The initial scoff of protest that Harry might’ve offered died a quick death when he caught the full effect of Jon’s glare. He seemed to remember he had better things to do and gave them a quick goodbye.

“Thanks for that.”

“I’m sorry to assume but…well, I know him and I figured you weren’t interested.”

“You assumed correctly. I don’t fancy dancing with him.”

“Fancy dancing. You’re a poet, Sansa Stark.”

“You’re cute when you’re tipsy, Jon Snow. Well, you’re cute anyway.”

“Cute, huh?”

“Yeah. Maybe more than cute.” She licked her lips but then seemed to shake herself. She tried to laugh it off but it was nervous sounding. Did he make her nervous? He didn’t want to. _Well, maybe a little,_ another voice said. _ But in the right way._

She started humming something under her breath. It didn’t sound like music. “Mind if I…” She plucked an eyeliner pencil out of her little bag and grabbed his arm, turning it palm up.

The pencil was a little rough feeling against the sensitive skin of his wrist. He could barely sit still as she drew one of her little swirly patterns on it. He was fascinated and there was something just a little erotic about her drawing on him this way. All the times he’d watched her sketching, this seemed more like she was marking him or something.

“What the…”

“Good luck charm.”

He’d like some good luck tonight. He’d like to get lucky with her. Meanwhile, he’d saved her from a dance with Harry and he was buzzed so why not take a chance?

“Can’t very well claim we’re going to dance and then just sit here, I suppose,” he said in what he hoped was a tone of resignation.

“You have a point,” she smiled and he could tell she wanted to dance. He hoped she wanted to dance with him.

_It’s just a dance,_ he reminded himself as he rose from the loveseat and offered her a hand up. They were both bordering on drunk but no harm in dancing, right?

Her eyes sparkled as he held her hand and they made their way to the next room where it was all blacklights and oscillating bodies. He turned to face her, finding himself drowning in her scent and her beauty and all of her. Weirdly enough, she seemed to be feeling something, too. She breathed deep and sort of sighed in a contented way. One thing was for certain, Sansa Stark didn’t seem to think he stunk.

“Is this alright?” he asked as he put his hands on her hips.

“Yeah, that’s good.”

But just as they started to move, the sound system blipped out. There was a rattling sound overhead and Jon looked up to see an enormous chandelier above him. It seemed to be shaking but that was probably the blacklights and flashing lights playing tricks on him, right?

“No, no, no,” he heard Sansa murmuring.

“Hey, we’re alright,” he assured her.

And sure enough, the supposed rattling stopped at once and the music started back up. But it was a different song now, an older one. Not the sugary pop crap they’d been playing a minute ago.

_‘Woo hoo, witchy woman_

_See how high she flies_

_Woo hoo, witchy woman_

_She’s got the moon in her eyes_

_She held me spellbound in the night_

_Dancing shadows and firelight…’_

“So are we dancing?” he asked her.

She laughed, a relieved sound, and nodded.

He couldn’t claim he was much of a dancer but with Sansa it felt different. They started out kind of free-style and fun, swaying together and laughing at their missteps.

And, it wasn’t long before their bodies were getting closer, gliding against each other in a slow sort of grind. Every touch was like magic, like sparks dancing between them, kicking all his instincts and desires into overdrive. Fuck, he wanted her. He wanted her to know how much he wanted her and wanted her to want him, too. Like there was a beast inside him, he couldn’t resist trying to tempt her, seduce her. _Make her mine,_ that inner voice started to chant.

“Are you dirty dancing with me, Jon?”

She’d asked in a light-hearted tone but there wasn’t anything light-hearted about her blown pupils or the way she reacted when he rocked against her. She was turned on. He could almost…smell it.

He smirked and pulled her closer. “Maybe.” What in seven hells had possessed him tonight?

* * *

It had seemed innocent enough at first. Jon had been hiding out on his loveseat, drinking and keeping to himself just as she’d expected, and she’d decided to check on him since Robb had been busy elsewhere. _Making time with the hostess, no doubt._

But then, they’d started talking and, just like over the summer, things were so easy between them. She’d missed that terribly in her attempts to avoid him, missed just talking with Jon. There wasn’t any guy she could talk to like him, it seemed.

Then, he’d spared her from Harry’s unwanted company. Granted, she’d been ready to give a flick of the wrist and bring some pressing (and non-existent) appointment to mind if he’d got too pushy but she’d appreciated Jon giving her a good excuse while potentially shutting Harry down for the night when it came to her. She’d given that flick of the wrist for good measure once Jon had spoken anyway. No need for Harry to prove what an ass he could be by starting something with Jon, right?

There’d been that moment of terror when the music had stopped and the chandelier had shook but it had ended and they were okay, just like Jon had said.

But now, Jon’s body (that rock-hard testament to all his hours spent at the gym perhaps) was moving against hers, a slow and sinful tease. How did one dance develop into this so swiftly? And who’d figured Jon Snow would ever dance like this?!

His hips rolled against hers and her body seemed to respond with a will of its own, chasing those hips eagerly, wanting to be closer to him. They found their rhythm. Gods, he was getting her so worked up and they were just dancing. She wanted…well, things that were entirely unsuitable to be doing in public. _Dirty dancing, indeed._

_It must be the alcohol,_ she told herself while simultaneously trying to find an excuse to go ahead and lose herself in this moment.

She wound up doing just that. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him and the way he was staring at her lips. She felt his hands tightening their grip on her waist.

And his scent, the one that’s like her personal catnip, that sandalwood and hint of cranberry, it surrounded her even as they were surrounded by other close-packed bodies reeking of sweat and alcohol. He was all she could focus on. Are pheromones real? They must be for her when it comes to Jon.

She tried taking a step back to clear her head, focus on keeping him safe. But his eyes darkened dangerously and it was like some trance came over her. She was right back in his arms.

“Are you enjoying this?” he murmured in her ear. His voice…holy fuck, the husky timbre of it, the cadence, it was like a delectable treat she couldn’t resist. She nodded vaguely. “No, Sansa. You’ve got to say it. Tell me if you’re enjoying this.”

Fuck, that just made her hotter. Her stomach muscles were clenching up. She felt like a coiled spring and if he spoke or touched her in the right manner right now, she might come apart all on her own.

“I’m…I’m enjoying it. Don’t stop.” It was practically a damned plea.

She needed more though. She spread her legs a few inches apart and looked up at him from beneath her lashes, imploringly. Would he know?

Gods, he knew. He groaned and slid his thigh between her legs. That teeny, tiny witchy costume was getting rucked up to where anybody who wanted to have a peek could probably see her panties but she didn’t care.

“Alright?” he asked in a low rasp. His thigh was practically kissing her clit with only her panties and his jeans separating them.

“Yes,” she breathed as that chandelier overhead gave another ominous rattle.

_It’s okay. We’re okay. This is not love. It’s not love he’s feeling. We’re a little drunk. He’s horny. I’m horny. We’re just two college students at a party. It’s only lust and…fuck, I want him! I want to have sex with him!_

He must’ve noticed her quick glance at the threatening lighting fixture. “You want to stop?”

Every nerve shrieked in protest when he pulled away a touch to ask. She grew sick at the very thought of this mood being broken. But no, that didn’t happen.

She shook her head and he pulled her right back where she’d been. Damn, she was ready to dry hump Jon Snow’s leg like there’s no tomorrow. She bucked against him and they both moaned. She slid her hands over his shoulders. He seemed tensed, ready to spring. That feral look was still in his eyes, the look of a predator. Was she his prey? She couldn’t say she’d mind being his prey.

She started grinding against him harder with the beat of the music (something from this century again with a much faster tempo).

One of his hands stayed on her hips but the other hand…oh, the other had traveled. She gasped softly when she felt his thumb sweep the back of her thigh, above those stockings and just below her ass.

“Tell me if I need to stop, Sansa.”

He was being sincere, she knew. That’s exactly who Jon is. But she could tell stopping was the last thing he wanted to do. Good thing she felt the same.

“Don’t stop.”

“Don’t you stop, then.”

His hand cupped her ass cheek through her panties as she rode his thigh with wicked abandon. Her panties are a mess. His jeans will have a wet patch before long at this rate. She can’t bring herself to care.

His whole arm was wrapped around her with no daylight between them at all. He watched her like he’d never seen something like her. It made her feel powerful and amazing and…loved.

_*clink, clink, clink*_

_No, not loved! I didn’t mean it! Stop!_

It did stop and he had her under his spell again.

A sizeable bulge was straining from his black jeans and pressed against her thigh. A few more drinks and she’d be begging him to fuck her in the middle of this room, she thought.

The beat goes on and she’s going with it. She was so close. He dipped his head and she could feel his hot breath in her ear. “Sweet Sansa, you’re so fucking hot. I want you to. Come on, love. It’s Halloween and this can all be make-believe. Nothing’s here but us. Come on.”

She felt his teeth nip at her throat and that was it. The nervous spasms of longing broke apart and the ripples of pleasure erupted everywhere.

She twisted her fingers through his hair as her mouth fell open. “Yes, gods yes! Jon!” she sang as she clutched him tightly.

And when her hips started to lose the rhythm, he grasped her ass firmly and yanked her against him, letting her fully ride out her orgasm here in the middle of the Tyrells’ damn costume party.

She kind of melted into a puddle of bliss but he held her and she remained upright though heavily leaning on him. Jon chuckled and gently bit at her earlobe. “Did you just…”

“Yeah.” She couldn’t deny it. She wouldn’t. “Jon, I…”

Oh, shit! She’d almost said it. And now, he was looking at her like he…

“Sansa…” He cupped her face tenderly and he was going to kiss her. He was going to say something that she couldn’t let him say.

He didn’t kiss her or say anything. He couldn’t because he was roughly pushing her away as she heard the horrible creak and snap.

She was chanting the Shield Charm with all her might as she covered her eyes. The chandelier crashed to the ground right where her and Jon had been a second ago. The partygoers all screamed as the music screeched to a halt once more. Through the dust and confusion, she opened her eyes. There was a heavy weight on top of her but it wasn’t an enormous lighting fixture.

“You alright?” he asked frantically from where he was covering her.

“Yes,” she managed to say before she promptly started sobbing.

He was so sweet, saying such soothing things. He thought it was the scare and near miss that had her crying. It was but not the way he thought. It was the fear of how close she’d come to killing him with just one dance.

_And one amazing orgasm. Fucking Cersei._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from 'Witchy Woman' by the Eagles.
> 
> Big thank you to those of you reading this little story :)


	5. The Broom Closet of Requirement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyarra gets a call. Jon and Sansa inspect a handy closet. And Cersei is up to no good.

Lyarra rubbed her eyes and wondered what that silly chiming nonsense was all about. It was interrupting one of her favorite episodes of ‘The Twilight Zone.’ She’d been snoozing to it quite peacefully.

“Newfangled rickety-ruck garbage,” she grumbled when she identified it at last. _Cellular phones. What tosh. Can’t even ring properly._

Her little coven was all of her generation. The younger girls were into staying up late but Lyarra and her friends had held their All Hallows Eve gathering earlier, just at twilight. _Oh, what a night for spell casting! The planets are aligned just so and Hilda’s cat had three black kittens, a fortuitous sign if ever there was one!_

But she wasn’t as young as she once was so she’d indulged in a couple glasses of Kill Devil Punch and been home before eight.

She picked up the phone and noted the prefix. She knew it was one of Ned’s children at once and, for one of her grandchildren to be calling her on Halloween at this hour, she had a sneaking suspicion which one it might be.

_ Unless it’s Arya calling to say she’s given that poor lad another set of bull horns for being so stubborn, bless him._

“Granny?”

“Hello, Lovey. Happy Halloween.”

“Oh, same to you. Granny…”

"I can’t hear you so well when you’re whispering. Where are you?"

"At a party. I'm sorry. Hang on." She could hear what sounded like a door closing. "Is this better? I'm in a broom closet now."

"Is that a joke? A witch hiding out in a broom closet? No need for us to hide what we are especially on Halloween, Lovey." Lyarra snorted at her own humor before clearing her throat. "That would explain the odd mufflety sound anyway. So, speak freely and tell me what's the trouble. Why are you calling your old granny so late when you ought to be outside of that closet and enjoying yourself?”

Her heart felt heavy when she heard Sansa’s sob. She certainly didn’t expect that to be followed by her next words. “Granny, I’m in love…”

“Oh, Lovey, that’s…”

“…and I’ve nearly killed him twice now!”

_Fucking Cersei._

* * *

  
  
“What in seven hells happened in here?!” Robb asked as Jon was still trying to figure that out himself.

_Well, after getting your sister off in the middle of this room while surrounded by people, I was pretty damn tempted to…_

“Chandelier fell. Faulty supports or something. Have you seen Sansa?”

“No, was she hurt?!”

“No, but we were dancing under it right before it fell and it gave her quite a scare. She left, saying she needed to use the ladies’ but I want to find her.”

Robb looked like he was ready to come with him but then Margaery arrived in the midst of tugging her toga back into place to exclaim over the mess and tragedy of it all and make sure all of her guests are unharmed. And once Jon took a good look at his friend, he realized Robb Zombie was looking decidedly less zombie-ish. His make-up was mostly smeared off his face. His lips that had been black were a candy apple red, much like Margaery’s had been when they’d arrived. The t-shirt he’d been wearing under his ratty flannel was absent now. _A happy Halloween for Robb then._

“Tell you what, you help out the Hostess with the Mostest there. I’ll find Sansa and check on her, okay?”

“Okay. But if Sansa wants to go home…”

“I can walk her back to ours or on back to her dorm if she prefers. You can come home whenever.” _Like tomorrow morning._

“Thanks. You’re the best friend a guy could have.”

_The best friend who’s dying to fuck your sister maybe._ Jon ignored the guilty pang that brought and headed off in search of Sansa. Besides, it wasn’t like he just _wanted_ her. He cared about her. He…_loved_ her.

His breath kind of caught in his throat when he finally allowed his brain to admit that at last. He loved Sansa. That feeling had been there for some time but now he really was ready to consciously accept it in his heart and mind. He loved Sansa Stark.

_Robb’s gonna freak._

_Doesn’t matter. He’ll get over it because I do. I love…_

“Seven fucking hells! Watch what you’re doing, Grenn!” he shouted, gliding just out of range in time.

He’d been rounding a corner at the same time his friend had come charging around it from the other side with an ax of all things. Jon had about wound up with it buried in his guts. _Or my balls. Death sentence either way really._

“Sorry, Jon. I figured I could put my costume to good use and clear away the wreckage.” Yes, he was dressed as a lumberjack which seemed to be working out fairly well on a burly guy like Grenn given the girls following him around and giggling. But leave it to Grenn to carry a _real_ ax instead of a fake plastic one.

“I don’t think they need an ax to remove the chandelier or…” Rationalizing things with Grenn could wait. He needed to find her. “You know what? Have fun.”

Shaking off his second near miss of the night, Jon headed on through the house before finding her at last as she was emerging from a broom closet.

“What were you doing in there? Are you alright?” She started saying she was but he could tell she wasn’t. “Come on, Sansa. Talk to me. We’ve got some things to talk about, right?”

“Yeah, we do. Jon, I need to tell you some things. I’m not…what you…” Her voice went up an octave and her eyes were watery all over again.

He reached up to touch her face, only wanting to comfort her. Gods, he loved her and it hurt his heart to see her sad.

But as soon as his fingers made contact with her cheek, it was just like earlier in the night. There was an instant connection thrumming through him and he’d bet his last groat she felt it, too. There were sparks flying even if they couldn’t be seen. He wanted to make this witchy woman all his.

_ Make her mine, make her mine,_ the voice within chanted.

And she could be. He could tell she was melting under his touch, seduced by it like some irresistible force, like something he wouldn’t name here. Was this what it had been like for his mother? Was this how his father had felt when…

_Fuck, no! I’m not him! I’m not like him! I’m not! I’m not!_

_But you can be just a little bit._

_NO!_

He wasn’t like his father. He didn’t want to be. And his father would sneer at the very suggestion.

_“You’re weak, just a mortal. Why do you deny me? I could give you…”_

_“No, thank you. I’m a mortal and that’s all I want to be.”_

There was something inside of him that would not be denied though, a part of him that was his father. He hated that part of him.

_“And what of your mother, son?”_

_“Leave her out of this!”_

His mother had loved him, raised him and been there for him always. She’d helped him control that part of his father that dwelled within him all through his youth. He’d dutifully followed her instructions to avoid trouble but tonight, he knew he was weak and courting trouble. And, he _wanted_…gods, he wanted her.

He drew nearer, their bodies getting so close as he continued caressing her cheek. “Sansa, we need to talk but first…” He opened the closet door. It would be a tight fit for some but not impossible. _Large enough...all that was required really._ “I think we could stand a little privacy for this talk, don’t you?”

She started muttering something under her breath but she took a step backwards with his nudge. Her eyes snapped open when she finished her muttering and she put her hands on his shoulders. “Granny’s house! We need to go to Granny’s house. She wants you to come with me! I said I’d bring you. Jon, I want you to take me there tonight. She thinks there’s a way…”

“Your grandmother’s house?”

“Yes, take me there, Jon.”

“Right now?”

She hesitated as he stroked her cheek again. Her head tilted to the side like she was entranced. “Uh…well…”

“Over the river and through the woods,” he sang softly in her ear. Her eyes rolled back and the beast within roared in anticipation. “I’ll take you there, sweetheart.” She shivered as his breath ghosted across her heated flesh. “But first, I’d like to take you here.”

“Yes, Jon.” Her eyes were nearly black. “Take me.”

“Take you to Granny’s?”

“No, take me here first,” she purred softly.

She was his. He had done that…and he was pleased by it. What was wrong with him?

Sansa had just disappeared into the darkened closet when a thrumming sound and then an ominous twang alerted his senses. He was not quite fast enough.

“Oh, shit! I’m so sorry! Are you hurt?!” a girl cried, rushing over to pull a knife out of the wall beside the door. The other one lay on the floor at his feet. “Shit, shit, shit! I thought it had hit you! I was just fooling around and…gods, that was a close call!”

He raised his eyes slowly from the knife at his feet. In some circus get-up from a century ago, he supposed she was supposed to be a knife thrower. Did all these idiots bring deadly weapons as part of their costumes? When their eyes met, she stumbled backwards, her confusion and fear a palatable thing. “You should practice your act somewhere far from everyone else,” he said in a low, menacing voice.

She scrambled away as if he’d shouted those words at the top of his lungs.

He turned his back on her as if she was nothing. Then, he stepped into the closet, shutting out everyone else so it was just him and Sansa.

“What was all that?” Sansa asked from within.

“Nothing,” he said, his fingers reaching out to caress her soft skin again in the half-light of their little hideaway. “Nothing, sweetheart,” he murmured, hoping the bleeding would be minimal and Sansa might not notice.

* * *

Sansa froze in place the moment he touched her again. She couldn’t see very well in here but she could hear him, smell him…_feel_ him.

A shiver ran up her spine, warning her that something was different about Jon tonight. He sniffed the air around them. Could he smell her desire? That was crazy. He was just a man and he couldn’t possibly have that keen of a nose. Nevertheless, a flush blossomed all over her, her restless, achy body that wanted him. He growled in response, a gruff bark almost.

He slowly traced two fingers down her cheek and along the column of her throat as if he meant to take her pulse until he reached her chest. Everywhere he touched her, she felt like she was burning. His lips replaced his fingers, dragging down the side of her neck like a brand, like an obeisance.

“Mine,” he rumbled, the sound emanating from his chest and filling the small space.

“Yours,” she whimpered.

What had come over her? What had come over him? Was Jon a wizard? A warlock? Had he cast a spell of his own?

She didn’t want him to stop kissing her there, making her body shudder from wanting him this badly. But she didn’t want this to be something that was chalked up to magic alone either.

_“Finite,”_ she whispered in the darkness.

“What?” he asked, raising his mouth from her neck.

“It’s a…”

Her eyes had adjusted to the gloom of the closet and she could see something shift in his expression. Something that had been there a moment ago was gone. Jon was just Jon again.

“Sansa, I…” He seemed to sink into himself, drawing away. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. That wasn’t me. That wasn’t…like me.”

Could Cersei be causing this? Was it only the alcohol? He was shaking. She wrapped her arms around him. He was frightened. She brushed his hair back tenderly. She wasn’t sure what had happened but tonight had already had its share of strange things. “I know, I know. It’s okay. We both drank a lot.”

“No, that’s not it. That’s not all of it. I want you but not like that. I want you to want it, too. To really want me. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. And, I _do_ want you.” Was that safe to admit? Wanting was not loving, was it?

_But I do…_

_Don’t think! Don’t think!_

Jon was busy demurring. “Yeah but you wouldn’t if it wasn’t for…if you knew…”

“I want you, Jon, okay? Remember earlier when we were dancing?”

“Gods, do I.”

“I’ve wanted you for quite a while now.”

“You have?” he asked, blinking in the half-light with disbelief.

“I have. Since that night in summer when we woke up on the couch together.”

“Really? Gods, I’ve wanted you as well but I didn’t think...”

His dear vulnerability set her upon a bolder course. She grasped a handful of his henley and pulled him to her, kissing him with all her might.

For half a second, he hesitated, his lips just pressed by her own. And then, a flip switched and he was kissing her back. But these kisses were not like the ones upon her neck a minute ago. They were sweet and tentative rather than possessive. Yes, they grew more assured as they kept kissing but this was the Jon she knew and trusted, the Jon she loved.

_Granny’s. We need to get to Granny’s._

_But must we go right now?!_ a needy part of her wailed as his hands moved down to her waist. _We’re in a broom closet. What could happen?_

Quite a bit could happen…

One hand snuck downward from her waist and then immediately up her little witchy dress. _“Yesssss,”_ she moaned as his fingers toyed with the edge of her soaked panties.

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure. Touch me.”

The heat of his hand was indescribable as he palmed her. She mewled and tried grinding down on it like she had his thigh during their dance.

“My little witch is wanton,” he chuckled.

“A very wanton little witch.”

He grew still and she could almost feel the words building up between them. “Sansa, I lov-“

She pressed a hand against his mouth. “Not that. Not now.” She could hear his sigh and it broke her heart so she kissed him to try and take away the pain. “Tell me later, please. Right now, I want you to put your hands on me…inside me,” she begged.

He pressed his forehead against hers. “Whatever you want, that’s what I want.”

His other hand pinched lightly at her nipple through her dress, making her arch her back and moan. He spun her around, caging her between his arms, his body and the door. His hand slipped inside her panties. He stroked her folds and gathered up the wetness there. She spread her legs but squirmed helplessly, wanting more.

Once, twice and then again, his finger plunged inside. “Oh, gods!” she cried already ready to climax again. Her ass jutted backwards against his hardness. She wanted him to fill her completely. “More, more…” She could’ve sobbed at the sweetness of that ache as he started teasing her clit.

Jon Snow knew a thing or two about hand jobs, it would seem. He tweaked her nipple while his thumb teased her clit as his fingers curled up a touch and…just like that, the stars came out inside the Tyrells’ coat closet. There was a buzzing in her ears and a humming in her blood. He’d made her come for the second time tonight.

He roughly spun her back towards him, tasting her lips, nipping at her chin, leaving soft pecks all over her cheeks. It was like a form of worship.

“I love you,” he breathed. “I’m saying it now even if you never say it back to me.”

Is that what he thought? That she didn’t care about him? Her eyes filled with tears. She’d tried for so long to deny what she wanted but she’d wanted to hear those words from him so badly. She traced her finger along the inside of his wrist where she’d used her eyeliner to draw a protective symbol earlier. She chanted the spell under her breath and then dared to utter four little words.

“I love you, too.” His sigh was the sweetest, most relieved sounding thing this time. “Do you have a condom?”

“I…shit, I don’t.”

“It’s okay. There’s ways around that.” She had learned how to brew moon tea a while back and part of her liked that Jon hadn’t come here tonight planning to fuck anyone in a closet.

The rest happened quickly. They fumbled with only what had to be removed. He slid her panties to the floor while she’d been unbuckling his belt. His jeans and boxers dropped to midthigh and wound up around his ankles as he pressed her against the door.

And all the while, their mouths barely parted. She could taste the rum and apples on his breath, the ramen and beer, the party punch and whiskey sour and her cock-eyed spell that hadn’t stopped a damn thing. She was glad it hadn’t. This was happening and it was real, her first real chance to be loved by someone who she loved in return.

The party was carrying on again outside this little space, fallen chandelier be damned. But it might as well have been far away. Neither of them cared about the party or who was there right now. This was all them inside their little closet.

Jon playfully snapped her garter belt, drawing forth a delighted gasp before he rucked up her dress. “Are you sure, sweetheart? In here?”

“Here…now. We’ll go to Granny’s after.”

He chuckled. “Do me a favor and don’t mention the old dear again until after we’re done, okay?”

She laughed and speared his curls with her fingers. She could feel his cock, hot and hard against her belly and then he was slipping inside of her.

“Ah, fuck…Sansa,” he groaned. He gave one or two quick thrusts and her toes were already curling in her boots, eager for another release. Jon grabbed one leg and wrapped it around his hip, going in deeper and then harder.

“Jon…oh, Jon…” She licked his ear and his mouth was back at her throat.

His thrusts became more frantic when she started to wail, knowing he could feel how she was pulsing for him. He started saying delightfully dirty things but she loved it as he slammed into her, over and over again.

“I want to get you off again, Sansa. Tell me what you need.”

“I need…faster.” He obliged and she gasped when he hit that spot_ just right_.

Her head hit the wall in time with his thrusts but she didn’t care. Her third orgasm of the night was upon her. She guided his hand between them and his thumb brushed her clit while he filled her with his cock and then…there was nothing but bliss, nothing but Jon, the man she loved.

* * *

  
Cersei poured herself another glass of wine and tapped the glass with her long, red nails. She could hear Joffrey’s whining down the hallway and rolled her eyes. The damned jackass ears were back again. No matter what she did, they would never stay gone indefinitely. She’d shrunk them, cut them, hexed them, masked them, everything short of cutting off her first born’s head. They always seemed to come back and usually at the worst times.

Joffrey had wanted to go out with his little friends for Halloween to have his fun. Boys will be boys and trying to keep Joffrey from sowing his wild oats wasn’t her job. He was nineteen now. Honestly, he’d been nearly impossible to control at fifteen. It hadn’t got any easier the older he got.

But now he was stuck here at home…and whining. It was rather annoying.

It was an insult, too. Her handsome boy, her poor son was cursed by that vile little bitch, Sansa Stark. A novice still but she was more powerful than she realized. In time, with the right training, she might be a serious threat. Cersei could not allow that.

She swept into her private solar, a place she allowed no one else to enter, and pulled the cover off her Orb of Sight. Where was Sansa Stark tonight while poor Joffrey suffered his humiliation?

“Show her to me,” Cersei hissed. The clear ball filled with crimson fog.

What was she seeing? It was dark and hard to tell at first but as the picture became clearer, she snarled. It was the little slut’s face wearing a look of ecstasy and joy. That shouldn’t be at all. And the young man panting with his arms around her was smiling and wearing a perfectly besotted look on his handsome face.

_NO! That’s not allowed!_

But just then, Sansa’s eyes grew wide with worry as she held up her hand between them. It was bloody. What had happened? Had the curse killed him? Was it in the process of doing so?

Before she could find out, the vision faded. The Orb grew hazy and she covered it again in vexation. She would need to see for herself. She put on her cloak and left the room.

“I’m going out!” she roared to the household at large before the front door slammed behind her.

Sansa feeling any joy at all simply couldn’t be allowed. She would need to fix this…permanently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This should have two more chapters. Fingers crossed I can finish it by Halloween. I wanted them to bang before we got to the other variety of action but it won't be a ton of that, just enough to deal with the threat of Cersei.
> 
> Thanks so much to those of you reading :)


	6. The Bloody Truth and the Half-Blood

“I can explain,” he said feebly as she held her bloody hand in front of his face. “Right before we came in here, a girl was throwing knives and…”

“A girl was throwing knives?!”

“I know, right?! What kind of lunatic throws knives around at a party?! Anyway, one of them might’ve…”

“Oh gods! I’m so sorry, Jon! This is all my fault!”

“How is it your fault when Knife-Throwing Girl did this?” She was pressing rag from their broom closet to staunch the bleeding but it had already stopped. “You don’t have to worry. It was a nick at most. The bleeding isn’t so much.”

“Isn’t so much?! The whole front of your shirt is bloody!”

_And my jeans are around my ankles. A bloody shirt isn’t my top priority right now._

“Sansa, I love you and you love me. I’d take a whole host of knives coming for me right now and wouldn’t…”

She roughly covered his mouth like earlier when he’d first tried to tell her he loved her. It was confusing. There was also something kind of hot about her being a little forceful with him. “Don’t say that! Are you mad?!”

Next thing he knew, she’d bent to retrieve her little witchy cauldron purse that had obviously been dropped at some point_. During our fevered rutting._

“Sansa…”

Whatever he was going to say died on his tongue because Sansa had just opened that teeny-tiny purse…and stuck her entire arm down it! She rummaged around her much-larger-than-it-appeared handbag, muttering under her breath, clearly vexed (which was entirely too cute), and at one point she stuck her head inside it. _Mother, Maiden and Crone! Her whole head! How is that possible?!_

At last, she pulled out a small bottle with a relieved sigh and commanded him to drink. Meanwhile, she rooted around in her bag some more until she pulled out a box of tissues, wiping his cum off the insides of her thighs before pulling her panties back up.

_Am I turned on? Yes, I’m turned on. Wait, can I have that pair? I’d like to have that pair if you don’t mind to commemorate the best night of my life. Annnnd, I’m getting hard again._

She noticed him staring at what she was doing while still holding the little bottle and tutted at him, firmly gesturing for him to drink it. A little too stunned to do anything other than whatever she said (and right now, he’d jump off a bridge if she said so), he drank. It tasted…well, not horrible.

Sansa nodded as if she knew what he was thinking. “The honey and boom berry juice makes it tolerable.”

He felt kind of warm inside like with alcohol but also much more clearheaded than he had. He’d drank a lot but also his head had been filled with Sansa from the moment she’d swept into his apartment earlier. “What was that?”

“Healing potion.”

“What?”

She straightened her dress and stockings and patted her hair back in place. “Jon, we need to talk.”

Handing back the empty bottle, he pulled up his boxers and jeans, only a little mournful that Stupid Knife Girl meant no Round 2 yet. “Yes, we do.”

* * *

  
Jon had sent Robb a text saying they were going to head back to the boys’ place for the night and they’d see him later. Robb had quickly replied for Jon not to wait up. That was just as well. They weren’t going back to Jon and Robb’s yet but it’d be better if her brother was safely out of the way at the moment. There were things that Jon needed to know but maybe Robb didn’t…ever. _Like us having sex in the Tyrells’ broom closet._

Side by side, they followed the pavement that would lead them back towards campus from the Tyrells’ enormous house. The road beside the path was fairly quiet with only a few cars passing here and there. Late at night especially on Halloween, they should keep an eye out for tricksters and drunk drivers but they were rather engrossed in each other and what she needed to get off her chest. The moon was shining brightly in the sky above so at least they were visible.

Sansa wished they could be an ordinary young couple heading home together for the first time after a party but that was not their fate tonight. _Could it be though?_ Her granny’s words had given her some hope along with Jon’s declaration of love and the fact he was still breathing. She wanted to believe that they could be like any young couple before this night was done. _If he survives the night…_

He’d had his arm wrapped around her at first but her revelation had him coming to a complete stop and dropping his arm. She missed his arm but she didn’t blame him for being shocked. Would he still feel the same about her now that he knew? Would he feel manipulated somehow?

“So, you’re saying you’re a…”

“A witch, yes.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, his eyes narrowed as if he was trying to puzzle some things out. “I mean, I guess the costume kind of gives it away.”

Great, he didn’t believe her. “I’m not joking, Jon. I’m a witch.”

“I believe you. I figures really. I mean, why wouldn’t the girl I’ve known for years, my best friend’s little sister, be a witch? Honestly, considering everything, this should be the least surprising thing to learn, shouldn’t it?” What did that mean? “So, are you a good witch or a bad witch?”

She couldn’t tell if he was trying to be funny or not. A little afraid to find out the answer, she answered him anyway. “I-I’m-I’m a good witch. Well, I don’t mean any harm. I only practice white magic but I’m not sure I’m a very good witch.” His lips twitched. “Some of my spells don’t work properly, some of them not at all but Granny says not to worry, that it’ll come to me with practice.”

“Practice makes perfect,” he muttered. He pushed back his sleeve, staring at the protective symbol she’d drawn on him with eyeliner over an hour ago. It was all smudged now. She should’ve carried a Sharpie with her. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“As a heart attack.”

“Can you show me?”

She chewed at her bottom lip. As much as she’d feared what love might cost her, she wanted to be loved. And, she wanted to be loved for herself, not her magic.

Maybe he could read her mind a little. He gently took her hand, his grey eyes pleading in the moonlight. “Please, Sansa? I hope you know that I already thought you were amazing well before you told me any of this. I’m just trying to understand.”

She nodded and thought for a moment. He wanted to understand. She wanted him to understand how much he meant to her. Deciding on what to show him, she concentrated and then wiggled her nose. Snowflakes drifted silently around them, falling from the perfectly clear night sky for several seconds as Jon’s eyes grew wide with wonder. His lips parted as one was caught by his eyelashes.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. He sounded awestruck.

_You’re beautiful,_ she wanted to tell him. “Thank you. I’m fond of snow. It always makes me think of you…because of your last name.” Her cheeks grew hot but his smile was tender. “Can you forgive me?”

Still delighted by the snowflakes, he was grinning at her. “Forgive you? What can you imagine needs forgiving?”

_I hid my secret from you._ “I made you a potion tonight and told you it was a cocktail.”

His nose wrinkled up at the memory. “That was really pretty nasty tasting.”

He scowled the next moment and walked away a few paces. Sansa hugged herself, telling herself not to cry. He was acting so calm but she could tell he was shocked. Who wouldn’t be? He was probably already thinking of how he could get away from a freak like her. Maybe he was trying to think of a way to let her down gently, afraid she might act like a woman scorned and hex him. How did a person break things off with a witch exactly?

_Break what off though? We fucked in a closet. He can claim he was drunk when it comes to the admittance of feelings. He might’ve fallen in love but people fall out of love every day, don’t they? He can forget me and…_

Jon was not about to do anything of the sort. He came back to her a minute later, lacing their fingers together. “You’re not going to tell me Robb’s a wizard, are you? Because I gotta say, I’ve seen him try and unclog a toilet and he is no wizard.”

She laughed at the very thought of her practical brother being anything other than who he was. “No, he’s not. It’s only passed down through the women of Stark blood in my family. Just me and Arya and my grandmother have it now.”

“Alright.”

“Alright?”

“Yeah, my girlfriend’s a witch. I guess this will have to be our little secret, won’t it?”

_Girlfriend?_ Oh, how that made her heart thump-thump with joy. “Yes, it needs to be hush-hush for a variety of reasons but me being a witch isn’t all of it. I nearly got you killed tonight…more than once.”

“With the cocktail?”

“No, with the curse.”

“What curse?”

He listened to the whole story as they resumed their ambling walk along the path, only stopping her twice to clarify a couple of things.

“And the drawings, charm bracelet and cards were all…”

“My attempts to protect you, hoping they’d keep you safe on the off chance that you loved me back.”

Traffic was picking up some as they neared campus but she was only focused on his response. His eyes grew dark and dangerous when she told him of Joffrey’s would-be assault and again over Cersei’s cruelty.

Once it was all out, he looked up at the moon and started chuckling to himself. He was taking this rather well.

“Jon?”

“So, here’s the thing. I’ve got something to tell you, too, my love.”

Her chin trembled at those last two words. “My love? Do you mean…do you truly still love me despite what I am?”

“Of course, I love you. Gods, Sansa, how could I help loving you no matter what you are, my sweet girl? I only hope you’ll feel the same once you know the…”

Before he could finish his sentence, there was a screeching of brakes as a pair of high beams closed in, illuminating them both in its harsh metallic light. Hopping the curb, it was too fast for anything, too fast to move or chant a spell or even think. But Jon moved, quicker than should be possible, and shoved her behind him, taking the full brunt of the impact from the speeding automobile.

The sickening crunch and smash filled her with horror as her body was knocked into the grass past the pavement. She could smell burnt rubber. Someone was screaming. _“Ohgodsohgodsohgods…NOOOO!”_ Was it her screaming or the driver of the car? She couldn’t even tell.

She scrambled to her feet, stiffly but not really injured. She raced to Jon’s side where he lay on the grass a few feet away. Tears filled her eyes and she felt her heart being wrenched from her chest despite it still beating there.

Cersei had won and the curse had had its way at last. He was surely dead.

Except he wasn’t.

* * *

He groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. He hated those headlights. They were far too bright. It was almost rude how bright they were.

_“Ohgodsohgodsohgods…”_ That was Sansa sounding heartbroken. He _hated_ that sound.

_“Fuck! I am so fucked! Holy shit! What the fuck?! What am I going to do?!”_ That was someone else. He could smell the whiskey. He could probably smell it from a quarter of a mile away on the idiot.

“Shut the fuck up,” he grumbled at the man hovering over him beside Sansa. He could smell the drunk driver’s fear. He could smell Sansa’s which mattered much more.

He opened his eyes just as the man spoke again. “How are you not dead?!”

“Harry…Hardyng?”

“Oh, shit! Is that you, Snow? Oh, holy shit! I’m so fucking screwed! Don’t call the cops, okay? Sansa, I swear I didn’t see you guys. The car veered off the road like it had a mind of its own. My step-mom is loaded and, if we could just keep this between us, I’ll…”

Jon rolled his eyes and sat up. Sansa yelped, trying to force him back down. She would not be able to force him back down. He reached for Harry’s neck and gave a pinch. The idiot squawked and promptly collapsed.

“Wha-…how…what did you do?!” Sansa cried.

“Rendered him unconscious.” _Some dads teach their sons to play catch. Mine was less orthodox._ “He’ll live. Believe me, I was tempted to do more.”

“Jon, how are you not hurt?” she asked, tremulous and overwhelmed as her attention returned solely to him.

He looked at the smashed front end of Hardyng’s car. His body had left that indention. He should be dead. He really should. He’d been lucky before but never quite like this. _How is this possible?_

“I’m pretty sure that it’s my father’s blood coming out in me. Of course, that would be saying my father has blood…his own blood anyway.”

“I don’t understand.”

He stood and pulled Sansa to her feet. “Are you injured, my love?”

“Me?! Jon, you were just hit by a car dead on!”

“Yeah, it’s going to smart a bit when the shock wears off,” he said jokingly. She was not amused. “Come on. We’re going to your granny’s to try and break that curse. I’ll explain as we walk.”

“What about Harry?” she asked as he gave a tug to get her moving.

“Let some do-gooder find him and then maybe the police will.” _Seriously, fuck that guy. He can lay there until the worms eat him for all I care. This is going to hurt like a son-of-a-bitch come tomorrow._

She was silent for several seconds as they walked but soon she asked the question he knew she’d been steeling herself to during that silence. He would give her an answer though he worried what she would think. At least, the news of her being a witch meant that maybe she wouldn’t immediately run away in terror from him.

“Jon…what are you?”

“A half-blood. And a quarter blood, too, I guess. The damned and not damned. Half human and half something else.”

“A vampire.” His smart girl would figure it out.

“Yeah but that’s not me. I’m a dhampir. Basically, what you get when a vampire mates with a human.”

“Oh goodness. Granny says that’s really rare.”

“It is. Some of us don’t turn out so well adjusted. Plus, vampires usually try and do us in when they learn of our existence since some of us wind up becoming vampire hunters.”

“That’s…that’s unfortunate.”

“I’ll say. My mom kept me hidden as best as she could.”

“So your dad was a vampire and your mother was human.”

“Yeah. My mother was seduced by my father when she was a teenager. I’m not sure why my father was so fascinated by her but he was. He rambles on about destiny and such. He’s an odd bird…even for a vampire. Anyway, he was originally planning to feed on her but she spoke to him and he couldn’t kill her. Instead, he decided he wanted to produce a child with her because he’d grown lonely and thought she’d stay with him that way. Eventually, he planned on changing us both so we could keep him company always. A little family of the damned, a bloodsucking pack for eternity.”

“Well, that’s a bit selfish of him.”

“If you met him, you wouldn’t be remotely surprised. Actually, my dad’s family tree is basically a who’s who of monsters, I’m afraid. Not all of them were but most of them. My grandfather’s a prime example. He was a demon.”

“Literally a demon?”

“Yeah, an Incubus. Anyway, Dad was one too but then he got caught up with this different crowd a few centuries ago and wound up becoming a vampire to shake things up, I guess.”

“How exciting for him.” She was joking. She also was clearly not a fan of his father already. He’d take that as a good sign. “I didn’t think dhampirs had powers like vampires.”

“We don’t exactly. Well, I didn’t think so until recently. It’s more a few watered-down traits that I’ve inherited mostly. Ever since I hit puberty, they’ve come out from time to time. I’ve preferred night to day since I was fifteen or so for instance. College has made it easier to live a more nocturnal lifestyle.”

“I could see that. Do you feed on blood?”

He scrubbed at the back of his neck. How to admit this? “Obviously, I don’t have fangs. The plastic dollar store ones are all I’ve got. As for blood, I don’t need it to survive but I do crave it. My mom understood and she started making me little, um…smoothies at night when I was around thirteen.”

“Smoothies? You mean your cranberry smoothies you drink have blood in them?” Sansa’s nose was wrinkled up in disgust. He couldn’t blame her.

“Yeah, a little.”

She looked ready to ask from what but thought better of it. “Are you immortal?”

“No! Vampires are immortal but we’re not. However, after we mature, we age more gradually, I’ve been told, and we’re supposedly immune to most diseases but beyond that, we can certainly be killed.”

“But you didn’t die tonight.”

“I know. I’m not quite sure why. Ever since the day those stairs collapsed under me at your parents house, I’ve noticed that I’m…stronger than I should be.”

“Stronger how?”

“Things that should hurt, don’t sometimes. Things that could get me killed, haven’t. I’ve even been reckless a few times testing it.”

“Oh, Jon! I wish you wouldn’t do such things!”

“Sorry, my curiosity got me past my fear and I wound up hurt a couple of times. It was clear that whatever was making me stronger, immune to injury or able to withstand them, was very specific.” Sansa seemed to mull that over as he was mulling over something else. “Sansa, earlier tonight, I realized another part of my father was inside of me.”

“What’s that?”

“You know that vampires can seduce their prey. Obviously, my grandfather probably had that ability as well being what he was. But tonight…Sansa, I wanted to seduce you and I think I used some latent powers within me to make that happen.” He shook his head, ashamed to even meet her eyes. “When we entered that closet, my intentions were less than honorable. Well, I guess you could say that from the fact we fucked there but I realized what I was doing was wrong and I…I meant everything I said earlier about loving you and wanting you well before tonight. Still, it was wrong of me. Can you forgive me?”

She laughed softly and he raised his head. “Forgive you? Jon, I’ll confess that I’ve shamelessly wanted you for some time now. You may have wanted to seduce me earlier but you did that quite a while ago.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. Like I said earlier, that night on the sofa. I had a crush on you when I was younger but I have definitely wanted you since that night.”

She had a crush on him when she was younger? Holy shit. “And how do you feel about me now?”

“It’s not changed a thing. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her as a siren wailed in the distance. He wished they could just go home but there was something that needed to be done first if possible.

“Granny thinks we could break the curse,” she murmured as if he needed reminding before pulling out of his arms. He didn’t need reminding but he also could easily get carried away with Sansa in his arms. “And maybe she’ll have answers about you, too.”

He could live with a curse coming after him if it meant he had Sansa’s love. But dodging knives and cars and causing structural damage left and right was no way for them to live. He needed to think of the safety of others, too.

“Alright. Let’s go to Granny’s,” he told her, playfully kissing her nose.

She giggled and they were dusted with random snowflakes as they walked along, hand in hand.

They were both giddily singing ‘Over the River and Through the Woods’ as a police car raced by them which would likely roll up on Drunk Harry and his car before long. _Have fun figuring that one out, fellas._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more to go on this :) Thank you for reading!


	7. The Curse Breaker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is my magical showdown the best thing I've ever written? Eh...no. Did I have fun writing it? Sure did! And some of it's straight from Harry Potter/Voldemort lore. 
> 
> Quick note-there's a wee bit of blood drinking during Sansa's first POV (the second section) in case that squicks you. 
> 
> Happy Halloween!!!

“Granny? Do you remember Jon Snow? Robb’s friend and roommate?”

“Of course, I do.”

Of course, she did. She remembered the first time she’d went for a visit at Ned’s and met the little dark-haired, pale-faced boy. Years in the magical community had taught her plenty and she’d known what he was at once. She’d wondered if she should speak with Ned and Cat about him considering what she knew of his father’s family. They wouldn’t have understood though and she’d never been one to cast judgment without cause so she’d elected to observe him instead.

Yes, he’d only been a child then but she’d worried for her grandchildren. So, she’d listened to the little things Robb would tell her of his friend and what the other children said. All of it had been very positive. A sweet boy, thoughtful and kind, a brave and true friend.

And as he grew and she caught her own glimpses of him here and there, she’d seen the way Ned looked upon him fondly, almost as another son. She’d even met his mother once at his and Robb’s graduation ceremony, a good woman who had raised a very worthy young man on her own despite her unfortunate entanglement with the vampire. Lyarra certainly remembered Jon Snow.

Sansa clasped his hand and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear with the other before saying, “He’s the man that I told you about. He’s…I love him, Granny.”

Clearly, she did and Lyarra could chuckle with joy for her. Sansa’s cerulean blue eyes were glowing as she looked at him with adoring heart eyes, heart eyes that he was returning in spades.

But, Lyarra pursed her lips as she gave them a closer look. _Hair a mess, a love bite on her neck…two of them, rumpled clothes for him and that rather risqué costume on Sansa, a lingering odor of sweat, alcohol and a headier musk altogether clinging to them despite the evening’s chill_. A little horizontal spell-weaving had taken place already tonight without a doubt.

“No wonder it’s taken you so long to arrive. And I remember you very well, boy. Rhaegar’s son, aren’t you? Well, well…” They both flushed, their eyes widening and then seeking the floor at their feet. “Now, I don’t care if you’ve been, um…busy but we’ve only got ‘til midnight to break the curse and it’s nearly upon us!”

“Only until midnight! You didn’t tell me that, Granny!”

“I didn’t? I thought I did. The alignment of the planets and stars and…” She scratched her head and shrugged. “I meant to anyway. Come in! Come in! There’s no time to spare. Jinx believes Cersei has left her lair. A lioness slayed by kittens. Wouldn’t that be grand?”

“Left her lair? Do you mean she’s coming here?”

“Who’s Jinx, Mrs. Stark?”

“She seemed in quite a rage so it’s possible, lovey. Probably that orb of hers showing her things. Jinx is my familiar, my tomcat, young man. He fathered three black kittens which were born to Hilda’s puss tonight. He also happens to be my eyes in the dark.”

“Eyes in the dark?”

“You’ll have time to learn all of this later when you’ve a witch for a wife,” she said, encouraging them both to join her in the kitchen. She paused and wagged her finger. “And I mean that in the nicest way possible!”

The pair of them looked quite shocked over the mention of matrimony. They were still rather young and she was old-fashioned she supposed. _Oh, well. I can hope for what I hope for, can’t I?_

Sansa was soon distracted from talk of witchy wives and matrimony anyway as she peered into the cauldron she had simmering over a burner on her butcher’s block. “What is that amazing smell, Granny?”

“Nothing in there, lovey. That’s odorless…or should be. You’re probably smelling my snickerdoodles.”

“You’re baking cookies?”

“Of course, I am. I’m Granny, aren’t I? One of my grandchildren came to visit me on Halloween. How could I not have a treat waiting for her? Besides, curse breaking is serious business and we may need the energy.”

Their smiles were gleefully covetous at the mention of cookies, reminding her of little children as she told them to take a seat. She poured them both a glass of milk and listened patiently to Sansa’s hand wringing over all that had occurred tonight…the parts she was willing to speak of in front of her granny anyway.

“Jon should’ve been killed more than once, definitely by the car anyway.”

“He would’ve been if not for the defensive countermeasures I took that night.”

“The countermeasures? But they didn’t work, did they? The curse is clearly after him! I feared as much after the stairs collapsed months ago and everything tonight has confirmed it.”

Lyarra sighed and had to remind herself that Sansa still had much to learn of magic and its ways. “Of course, the curse is still after him. I told you I could not break her curse. I couldn’t then anyway. But I did what I could to soften its effects. He’s not dead, is he? You’re not dead, are you?”

“No, but…”

“What did I say, Sansa? I said, ‘Somewhere, there’s a man worthy of you…’”

“‘And loving you will do him no harm.’ Oh, Granny! I didn’t realize!”

“So, I’m not particularly powerful or anything special?” Jon asked. “It’s not my father’s blood that’s protecting me?”

“It is and it isn’t. I cannot say for certain but I don’t know if a full-blooded mortal man could’ve survived the things you have. However, it’s not your father that makes you worthy of my granddaughter. It’s your goodness that does. I think that makes you a wonderfully special young man.”

Jon’s anxious look softened at her words and gave her a smile of understanding. Just as Lyarra wouldn’t dream of feeling shame over being a witch, she hoped he’s stop feeling shame and confusion over being what he was in time.

“I feel foolish now for keeping him at arms’ length all this time,” Sansa said, giving Jon a shy smile.

“No, lovey. Don’t feel foolish. You loved him even before you were _in_ love with him. You wanted to keep him safe from harm. There is no reason to feel foolish for it. What wouldn’t we do to protect those we love?”

“I even tried to ensure he wouldn’t love me with magic. I tried to make myself fall out of love with him, not realizing how your magic might work,” she admitted with tears in her eyes. “I did potions and spells and…”

She listed them off one by one while Lyarra shook her head. “They would never have worked against such powerful magic.”

“What powerful magic?”

“Why, love, naturally. No magic’s more powerful than that which is something Cersei has never learned, poor thing.”

“Poor thing? How can you feel sorry for her after what she did to Sansa?” Jon asked indignantly.

“I don’t and I do. Cersei’s always been a bad apple but it’s circumstances beyond her control that’s made her rotten to the core. If she’d ever learned about love though, truly learned about it in her heart, she might’ve turned out differently…or at least not quite so nasty.”

“But Joffrey…”

“Yes, he is a foul little boy but he’s had his dreadful parents to live with. His father is a miserable man which one might pity but also a violent, drunken oaf…far less pitiable. And, Cersei’s love for her children is an unhealthy one as it’s conditional upon them pleasing her on one hand but also so severe she fails to see even the slightest flaw in them even at the expense of others.”

“I can never forgive her or him for hurting Sansa,” Jon said flatly.

“Yes, I understand. It’s easier to make a judgment quickly and stick by it but isn’t it nice to be openminded about people…or other creatures for that matter? Even when someone proves themselves unworthy of us, it doesn’t mean we give up on everyone, does it?”

He looked uncomfortable at that just as the timer for her cookies dinged. She rose the fetch them, letting them cool a couple of minutes before shoveling a dozen onto a plate and setting it between them.

“There now, eat up and I’ll tell you my plans. And Jon? You’re going to need a little something to go with your milk and cookies tonight.”

* * *

“I won’t do it!” Jon shouted.

“You may as well. It’s the fastest way,” her granny said in a calmer tone.

The debate had been raging for five minutes now and Sansa felt a little queasy. She was not terribly squeamish. Working with various potion ingredients the past few years had cured her of that. Still, this was blood…her blood.

_But won’t it be worth it?_

The potion was nearly ready which her Granny said could break the curse but there was a step to take that had nothing to do with what was in the cauldron.

_‘The lovers must be as one, bodily entwined.’_

Interesting word bodily. Granny said it should be taken literally.

“We kissed a lot tonight,” Jon argued.

“I wouldn’t rely on chance saliva for this, my boy.”

“Why doesn’t she need my blood, too?”

“It doesn’t have to be blood and I believe some of you is already in her from earlier, is it not?”

Sansa’s cheeks burned at her granny’s knowing glance but reminded herself she could be brave.

_‘Once the lovers are bodily entwined and the potion consumed, no witch or wizard may drive them asunder through spellcasting ever again.’_

Keeping Jon and any innocent bystanders safe from harm was worth a moment’s pain and a little squeamishness, wasn’t it?

“I’ll do it.” The bickering ceased as they both stared at her. Jon’s mouth flew open when she picked up her granny’s paring knife but she silenced him with a sharp look. “Does it matter where I cut?”

“No, lovey. He should drink it straight from you to be safe but only a little is needed so a small cut will suffice.”

“I don’t want you doing that. I don’t want…” He hung his head.

She closed the distance between them in her granny’s little kitchen, gently raising a hand to cup his cheek. “What’s a little cut when I could have your love without fear?”

He kissed her palm and nodded.

The knife was cold against her flesh and the cut burned. Jon’s face crumpled in remorse for any pain she felt but the next instant, his nostrils flared. He’d smelled it. He smelled her blood and it woke something within him. His eyes darkened to obsidian spheres and she felt herself sway where she stood when he turned her wrist over and raised her wound to his lips.

“Drink,” she urged, only wanting this to work. She did not expect it to be so pleasant.

His lips, warm and slightly chapped, closed over her wound and he began to suck as his eyes remained locked on hers. It was the queerest sensation truly. It hurt…yet, it didn’t. He pulled back long enough to lick her wrist and then his mouth was closed over it once more and sucking more forcefully.

And meanwhile, a dizzying but delightfully free feeling was spreading all through her. Flashes of memory and flashes of feelings from earlier in the night assaulted her. Their dance with his hands on her hips and her straddling his thigh until the flashing lights above were replaced by the flashing ones behind her eyelids. The closet with the heady scent of him filling her nostrils, his hands gripping her ass when he entered her and…

“Oh gods,” she whimpered as an unexpected and indescribable bliss started to overtake her.

“That’s quite enough,” she heard her granny say.

“Ow!”

Jon was rubbing the top of his head when her eyes fluttered back open, looking partly annoyed but also terribly guilty.

“Bind her wrist now while I add the final ingredients to the potion,” Granny told him. Uncertain of what to think, she watched as he applied firm but gentle pressure to her wound with a sterile cloth. It was small. It would stop bleeding very soon. She couldn’t seem to meet his eyes. Or when she dared to, his eyes would quickly flit away from hers.

“I hope I didn’t hurt you,” he finally murmured as her granny was busy digging through her cupboard for something.

“You didn’t hurt me. It felt strange but then it was…good.”

“Good?”

She flushed and ducked her chin. “I liked it. Did you…was it alright? Did I taste alright?”

He chuckled, causing her to meet his gaze again. He was flushed, too. “You tasted more than alright. Blood’s never tasted so good.”

“Oh…” That was a little scary but also kind of a turn on.

“But it’s not your blood I was thinking of tasting when I was doing that.”

“Oh!” She laughed as he started wrapping a bandage around her. “I suppose you could do a flavor comparison later.”

“I would like that very much.”

“Alright, we’re ready,” Granny announced. “Grab those two goblets, Jon. Sansa, come and recite the incantation.” She held up an old book.

“Me?”

“Yes, you’re the one who was cursed. It’s only right that you should break that curse.”

* * *

The gravel of Lyarra’s driveway crunched beneath the tires of her gold Mercedes like so many little insignificant insects and Cersei’s crimson painted lips curled into a smile at the thought. That was what Lyarra and her little coven were, insignificant insects. They possessed a mere smidgeon of her power.

If it wasn’t for the Magical Secrecy & Protection Act, no one would dare defy her as one of the most powerful magical beings on the planet. _Well, laws can be rewritten, can’t they?_ That was a good point. For tonight though, she had more personal business to see to here.

They emerged from the house as soon as she turned off the ignition. She was satisfied to see that her instincts were correct. The little slut had run to her granny once more thinking that useless old bat could solve anything.

Dressed like a witchy tart, Sansa probably used her natural charms to seduce unsuspecting men and boys like her poor Joff all the time. Cersei had certainly had her fun over the years doing the same. She’d greedily take what they could give and then spit them out when she was done with them. There’d only been one she’d set her cap for that had seemed immune to her charms.

But Sansa had made the mistake of falling in love. She’d not wanted Joffrey, she’d harmed him and she was also a potential threat. She’d pay for all of that.

Lyarra, the frumpy old hag, was in a robe and slippers. She’d been a thorn in her side for many years. She’d never sought battle but she’d never been properly deferential either. Neither of them could dare compete with her. She could deal with both of them at once tonight and be done with them for good.

“Cersei,” Lyarra said with a nod. “Not seen you in a while.”

“Yes, it’s been a pleasant reprieve for me as well,” she acknowledged in a bored tone while inspecting her manicure.

“I hope you’ve not come here tonight looking for trouble.”

“I’m not looking for trouble,” she said lightly. “I’m just looking for justice.”

She was perfectly calm. Her emerald eyes were glittering with delight when another person walked out of the house. The young man she’d viewed in the Orb was with them. Oh, she might be able to kill him while Sansa watched! And then, she’d kill her! It was perfect really.

But his dark eyes and pale face were strangely unsettling to her now that she saw him in the flesh for the first time. There was an otherness to him, something murky and indefinable but there. Why was he still alive?

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said to him. “Of course, I never expected we would since you should be dead already.”

“This boy’s done nothing to you no more than Sansa has,” Lyarra told her.

Like a bubble, her perfect veneer of calm popped. Like a twig, that festering rage within snapped. “Nothing?! She disfigured my son!”

“He’s not disfigured.”

“His ears!”

“Well, I’m sure he hears quite well. And Midas had the ears of an ass thanks to Apollo so maybe your Joffrey will wind up having some luck with gold or… ”

“It’s not funny, Lyarra!”

“None of that would’ve happened if he’d not attacked her and you know it, Cersei.”

“My son did nothing! It was her!”

“You’re wrong!” the girl had the audacity to scream. “He came to my house uninvited! He barged his way inside! He threw me to the floor! He was going to hurt me! I only did what I had to! I didn’t know the ears would keep coming back!”

The young man had the gall to snort and Cersei’s eyes cut towards him with growing malice.

“It’d be advisable for you to go on back home tonight,” Lyarra warned. "Your children love you and need you there.”

“I’ll return to them soon enough.” _I’ll tell Joffrey how I finally finished off that little bitch Sansa Stark and hopefully once she’s dead those jackass ears will be gone for good._ “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced,” she said the young man with false charm. He started to open his mouth when she continued, “But to be honest, I don’t much care to meet you at all.”

With a twist and a flick of her wrist, she hissed the Killing Chant. If the curse wouldn’t do him in properly, she’d do it herself.

Except he didn’t die. The spell seemed frozen in the air between them like a corporeal thing. Sansa had her hands raised and her head bowed.

“A shield charm? Very cute.” It wasn’t cute. It was powerful, very powerful to stop her curse in midair. She couldn’t let it rattle her. This girl was nothing but a little witch wannabe, a teenager still. “It won’t save him for long.”

She waved her hand to waft the charm away like fog.

“Stand together you two,” Lyarra told them.

“Yes, stand together. It will make this easier,” Cersei cackled.

She hissed the Killing Chant once more but it seemed to rebound from them. Like a soundwave meeting resistance, it echoed back towards her. An odd chill crept through her chest but that was nothing at all. She would finish them. Maybe she should finish the old witch first to be safe.

“Morté!” she cried.

But the old woman did not fall. Sansa had cast her shield charm once more, protecting her grandmother. This was impossible! She shouldn’t be able to block her curses! It would not stop nothing. She had more tricks up her sleeve than they’d ever dreamt of.

However, in the next instant, the young man was by her side. How had he closed the distance between them so swiftly without her noticing?

“Cersei,” he rumbled in a deep and raw husk. “That’s a pretty name.”

What was he doing? Was he mad? Why was he…gods, he was alluring. His voice was hypnotic. His eyes had appeared grey at first but there were hints of violet in them. Those eyes were mesmerizing. And, he smelled good…so good.

Her heart was thudding dully in her chest now as if it was growing heavier with every squeeze but her loins tightened up when he placed a hand on her wrist. She wanted his hand there. She wanted his hand…

“Who are you?” she asked in a frightened voice she barely recognized as her own.

“Jon Snow.”

“Snow…” The name meant nothing to her.

“You don’t know me but perhaps you’ve met my father.”

“Your father?”

“Rhaegar is his name.”

Incredulous, she shook her head. He was Rhaegar’s son? The one being who had ever dared refuse her charms? The son of a demon turned vampire had a son?!

“Now, Sansa!” Lyarra shouted.

She was still staring into those kaleidoscope eyes when her heart stopped. And when it started beating again, she was looking up from far beneath Jon Snow. He knelt on the ground and his hand reached out, patting her head with a pleased smirk on his face.

“There’s a good pussy cat,” he told her before he picked her up.

She hissed fiercely at all three of them as the other two joined him but they only laughed at her. How dare they?!

* * *

In the early morning hours of November 1st, her sinfully delicious witch’s costume and his disappointingly ordinary vampire costume littered the floor of his and Robb’s apartment from the front door all the way to the foot of Jon’s bed.

At present, they were under the covers of that bed enjoying the afterglow of lovemaking outside of a broom closet for the first time.

Jon was still savoring the musky tang of Sansa that had not completely left his lips yet. Tasting her blood had been exotic, a heady rush, and if she wouldn’t mind offering him a sample here and there to satisfy his nightly craving, he would hardly turn her down. But tasting her cunt was far superior, something he’d be asking for on a nightly basis if she allowed.

They were both sweaty as he held her tightly with their forehead pressed together after reaching their climax as one.

“I love you.”

“I love you,” she whispered back and he was pleased to see no fear in her eyes when she said it.

“You’re simply amazing, you know?”

“I’m not,” she protested, her cheeks coloring sweetly at his words.

“It’s true.”

“My granny’s the amazing one.”

“I won’t argue with you there but I’m allowed to be biased and declare my girlfriend is the most beautiful, sexy and amazing witch ever, aren’t I?”

“Only if I’m permitted to say my boyfriend is the sweetest and sexiest dhampir to ever exist.”

He chuckled and rolled to his side, happier than he’d ever been when she snuggled up against him.

The events after Cersei’s transformation had taken a little time to accomplish and the milk and cookies (and a lot of water) had flushed most of the alcohol out of them. He was glad because he’d wanted a clear head for the remainder of his Halloween…or morning after Halloween.

He glanced at the clock by his bed. It was nearing dawn, his usual bedtime. Would Sansa want to stay with him all day? He’d be sure to ask. The whole day in bed with the woman he loved sounded pretty ideal to him.

He grimaced slightly though when he recalled that Robb would come home eventually. N_othing for it. He’ll have to accept things_. He felt pretty confident overall that his friend would be happy for them in the end once he got past his initial surprise. _He’s always wanted someone worthy of her, right? Well, I hope he’d consider me that._ The main thing was that Sansa considered him to be so.

A blush began to bloom across his cheeks when he remembered Lyarra sternly reminding them before they left her that Sansa would need to brew some moon tea this morning or he’d better go find a ring soon. She could brew her tea. He was still going ring shopping before long anyway. They were young and if she wanted to wait that was fine. He was still planning to propose someday.

“We can’t tell Robb any of this, can we?” she asked in a hypothetical way. 

“We’re telling him we’re in love.”

She smiled so brightly it made his heart ache with the sweetness of it.

“Yes, we are. But the rest…”

The rest would remain a secret between themselves and Lyarra.

The gold Mercedes had been returned to Cersei’s house in the dark of night. And on the front porch, there was a box with a golden kitten sleeping inside of it with lovely emerald eyes. It didn’t have the best disposition but who couldn’t love a little kitty? Hopefully, Cersei’s younger children would. A very small compensation for the fact that their mother would never be coming home. _Well, she is but she isn’t._

Cersei’s Killing Chant had rebounded off the powerful curse-breaking potion they’d consumed before her arrival.

_“It’s a tricky potion to be certain. The stars must align just so. The lovers must be entwined and the cursed person must recite the incantation.” _

_“And what about the black kittens that were born earlier, Granny?”_

_ “Well, a black cat’s lucky, don’t you know? Luckier than saucy golden ones anyway,”_ the old lady had cackled while patting a hissing Cersei on the head. “_So, three of the little darlings were all the luck we needed to withstand three Killing Chants in one night!”_

_ “But will Cersei be able to find a way to become human again?”_ Jon had asked anxiously.

He’d had enough of battling sorceresses for one lifetime even if his role had ultimately been posing as a tempting distraction so Sansa could cast her transfiguration spell.

_“I don’t think so, Jon. The Killing Chant hit her full on. If Sansa hadn’t transfigured her, she’d have died. The curse killed her and it was only Sansa’s magic that allowed her to live out the rest of her years as a cat.”_

_ “Well, not to criticize but wouldn’t it have been better in a way if she’d been finished for good?”_

_ “Maybe, maybe not. Young Tommen and Myrcella will love this little kitty though and there’s something to be said for that.”_

Jon supposed he agreed with that.

“I’m home,” a groggy voice said right outside Jon’s bedroom. “Why are there clothes everywhere? Did you bring someone home?”

“Uh…yeah, I did,” Jon called back in answer as Sansa buried her face into his shoulder to stifle her giggles.

“Lucky you. Where’s Sansa anyway? Did she come home with you?”

“Yeah, she did. She’s, um…here.”

“Where here?” the suddenly wide awake voice asked sharply through the door.

“Well, it all started with those Squid Bites of yours…”

* * *

Years pass in their funny way, slow and plodding one moment and then in leaps and bounds the next, and suddenly a dozen of them had gone by.

Life went on peaceably enough for the magical community and regular folks as well after that fateful Halloween night when the evil sorceress Cersei Lannister disappeared for good and Sansa Stark finally learned she could indeed have requited romantic love of her own.

Tommen and Myrcella Baratheon, bless them, had loved their little golden kitty which they’d named Hissy. She did not replace their missing mother but their uncle had taken them to live with him and, young as they were, they’d learned to adapt to their new normal. They were quite delighted when they’d received a black kitten from an odd but dear old lady several weeks later one day when their uncle was out._ “To keep your girl company…and help her behave,”_ she’d told them.

After his mother had failed to turn back up and rid him of his jackass ears, Joffrey Baratheon had become a confirmed recluse. His siblings had suggest he try wearing a turban or even just letting people see his ears but in his vanity he’d refused for fear of being laughed at. So, he lived a bitter life alone in his mother’s mansion, imagining all sorts of dreadful things and accomplishing none of them.

If he had found it in his heart to make an apology for his actions and asked nicely, Sansa might’ve rid him of his jackass ears. Under her grandmother’s guidance, she and Arya had become quite proficient at undoing any careless hex since poor Arya’s temper sometimes got away from her. Many in the magical community sought the Stark sisters out for their healing magic. But Joffrey never did and Sansa gave him very little if any thought at all once Cersei was no longer a threat.

Jon and Sansa had married a couple of years after she finished college. They were quite possibly the happiest young couple you’d ever hope to meet and their Best Man, the best friend of the groom and brother of the bride, had told everyone during his speech that it was his Halloween cocktails that had brought them together in the first place.

Funny enough, Harry Hardyng had officiated the ceremony as he’d turned to the Faith after his stint in jail and alcohol counseling a few years earlier. The Starks had all been there along with Jon’s mother. His father had attended as well though he’d lurked in the shadows during most of the sunset service. The Starks didn’t care much for him but that was alright since Jon didn’t either. Rhaegar was tolerated anyway…and warned in no uncertain terms that he was to behave himself if he ever wanted to see his grandchildren.

Twelve years to the day after she’d been freed from her curse, Sansa smiled as the sun started going down on Halloween. Jon would be rising soon but he was off from work tonight. They would take Lyarra trick-or-treating with their last stop being at her granny’s house next door where the old dear still lived with her very old but spry cat Jinx. The child had been promised she could spend the night with her great-granny who would no doubt stuff her full of snickerdoodles and milk after all that candy.

Jinx had fathered another batch of kittens not long ago, the old gigolo, and there was a black one in the bunch who’d been gifted to Lyarra as an early Halloween treat.

_ “Every witch needs a black cat, doesn’t she?”_ Sansa’s granny had cackled with delight as the little girl had been cooing over her kitty.

_“She’s not a witch yet.”_

_ “She will be. She’s a Stark girl even if her last name is Snow. For now, consider him a gift for you both.”_

After setting out the bowl of candy for their own trick-or-treaters, Sansa looked through her things for the gathering later this evening after Lyarra would be tucked into bed and Jon would be watching his frightful movies while he waited for her and Granny to return to the house. She’d joined her grandmother’s coven along with Arya and a couple of witches closer to her age had been invited tonight. And after that was done, she’d go home with her husband for their own late night celebration.

“Mommy! Can I carry Kitty with me tonight? He can ride in my pumpkin as we walk from house to house!”

Sansa smiled indulgently at the little elfin face with sparkling blue eyes and raven curls looking up at her so earnestly. “Where would your candy go if Kitty came with us?”

The little one scowled, clearly confounded for a moment. But only a moment. “Daddy will carry him for me!”

“Oh, I will, will I?” a gravelly voice said sleepily from the doorway.

Sansa grinned to see Jon had risen to join them at last. Their hours did not always coincide but they made the most of the ones they shared. She hated to think she’d once thought she would learn to be content without love. Some folks might be content that way but she knew in her heart she never would’ve been.

“You’ll carry Kitty for me, won’t you, Daddy?” the little girl pouted and Sansa could already see Jon wavering.

“He’ll be happier here, Lya,” she said to save her soft-hearted husband from having to refuse her. “He’s wiggly and quite small. He might get lost or into mischief.”

The pouting increased. Sansa wasn’t exactly made of iron either.

“Speaking of Kitty, don’t you think it’s time we named him, sweet one?” Jon asked, distracting the child. Sansa gave him a grateful look.

Lyarra started listing off a dozen options as Jon came to sit beside Sansa, listening raptly but placing a warm, strong hand upon his wife’s stomach. They’d just learned they’d be having a son in the new year. Jon fretted some over whether their boy would inherit any of his grandfather or great-grandfather’s traits but Sansa didn’t. He’d be Jon’s son and hers. He’d be wonderful just like their daughter.

“Mommy? Daddy? What if we name him Jinx like his daddy?”

“That sounds good to me,” Sansa said. “A son named after his father, it’s traditional…especially when the father is rather amazing.”

Her husband’s eyes met hers with a loving intensity that could still render her breathless.

She nodded to him subtly._ Yes, that’s what I’d choose? Would you?_

He nodded back. 

Later that night, Lyarra told her great-grandmother all about Little Jinx and all the candy she’d received trick-or-treating as the three adults tried to settle her for bed. There was still a coven gathering to attend and other celebrating for the young couple to enjoy.

So, the old dear, seeing that the child was quite wound up, asked her if she’d like to hear a story.

“Oh, yes! Please, Granny Lyarra! I’d love to hear a story! Mommy says your stories are the best!”

“She does, does she?” Lyarra asked, clearly touched and pleased.

“It’s true, Granny.”

Her granny waved a hand to indicate she and Jon should sit down on the other side of the bed. Jon held her hand as she watched her grandmother smooth down Lyarra’s blankets and the lights go dim quite on their own.

Little eyes were already looking a bit heavy when her granny asked her daughter, “Have you ever heard the story of the Cursed Teenage Witch, little one?”


End file.
